


A Head Full of Heart

by kamikaze43v3r



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Eventual Romance, Genichiro learns to heal, Growing Up, Headless Genichiro Ashina, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain & Sadness, Wolf learns to love, happy ending??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r
Summary: The young boy reaches out his small, thin hand to grab at the spirit’s sword, even ignoring that it had sliced past thin skin and into flesh. Even then, the child does not make a sound. Only his brown eyes stare back at the Headless.For a moment, there is a flicker of something within the vengeful spirit.That something makes it take the boy in.
Relationships: Genichiro Ashina/Sekiro | Wolf
Comments: 20
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow Baby Wolf as he grows up under Headless Genichiro's wing. If the pacing is weird, it's because this was meant to be a long one-shot but eventually I decided to split it up into chapters instead... Hope you enjoy!

Ashina dies, and so do her people.

They are pillaged and ravaged by the Central Forces who are eager to take their land. With the leading lord gone, head taken from his shoulders, Ashina is no more. The Ministry thinks they are victorious, but they are mistaken.

The demise of the lord does not mean the demise of the land.

He swore to protect Ashina and nothing would stop him. Not even death.

As if moved by the lord’s dying will, Ashina answers. Dark, heavy miasma gathers around the mounds of bodies. A vengeful spirit raises from amongst the corpses. 

A Headless, the ruined form of corrupted heroes who once fought for their country.

_ Ashina’s long night will come to an end _ , the lord had said. He fell to madness in his search for power to protect his country. He would seize any manner of heretical strength, would endure any burden. But alas, the long night ended only for him instead.

The Ministry did not expect a wraith. Their troops are soldiers, not exorcists. Swords and spikes do not work on the dead. The soldiers fall by the wrath of the spirit. Many are unable to escape as it traps them in its miasma of despair, afflicting anyone within its range with torpor. Terror grips those who approach too close, their souls taken with a cry of abject horror. Those who are fortunate enough to flee cling to their necks but will be left with nightmares for the rest of their lives.

One lone spectre fends off the entire army.

If the lord still had his mind, what would he think of his death being the key in protecting his land? But it is too late. Ashina is already in ruins. Even so, it will still protect this land.

The Ministry troops end their siege and retreat. For weeks to come, they attempt to take the castle from the spirit, but fail each time. After all, they cannot behead what is already headless. With little choice, the Ministry is forced to abandon their aim to seize Ashina.

The Headless lord’s goal has been achieved. Ashina is now safe. But yet, it cannot pass on. Not with all the grudge, anger and hate it still holds. As it passes through the decomposing bodies of its fallen soldiers, a hoarse, wailing noise escapes its exposed throat. Finally, it has a moment to mourn the death of its country and the loss of its people. 

The mournful cry can be heard throughout the land.

Ashina becomes known as the haunted, cursed land owned by a powerful, vengeful spirit. For years, no one dares to enter its territory. 

Only wanderers or scavengers turned peddlers would take the risk. Groups like the Memorial Mob would trek through the grounds, evading the spirit that can still be sighted patrolling the castle. The Mob would loot what they can find and pay respects to the dead with their offerings.

Even Ashina, with its ghosts and demons, need prayers so that the restless may be at peace. 

But with the Headless lord ever present, it continues its reign over the land with death and terror. While it does not like the strong sunlight of the day, it is known to trudge through the open castle and fortress grounds. Very rarely, it extends to the outskirts.

It is nearing dusk when the spectre appears. The Memorial Mob at the Crow’s Bed does not expect to cross paths with the spirit. He is gripped by fear from the miasma of the Headless and is frozen in place. As the spirit comes closer, the Mob prays. But the Headless does not recognise friend and foe. There is only vengeance and hatred for those not of Ashina. 

As a crow lets out an ominous cry, the spirit swings its sword. The merchant dies with a wheezing breath as he looks in the direction of his tent, where a soft rustling can be heard from within.

The Headless lord approaches the tent and pushes aside the cover to find a small bundle of orange and white linen clothing. There is a young boy curled up in it, frail and weak. His long, unkempt hair covers most of his face.

The spirit draws its blade on the boy. It can tell that the other is awake, but the boy does not move. His breathing is strange, slow and barely audible. The Headless realises that the boy is not affected by its miasma. It also realises that the boy is dying. Either from illness or starvation, it is unclear.

The boy moves only to turn his head towards the Headless. He shows no fear or discomfort, staring at the spirit with a neutral expression. The Headless lord points its blade to the boy’s face. Perhaps if it waits long enough, the boy will pass on by himself.

However, the boy does what the Headless lord least expects.

He reaches out his small, thin hand to grab at the spirit’s sword, even ignoring that it had sliced past thin skin and into flesh. Even then, the boy does not make a sound. Only his brown eyes stare back at the Headless.

For a moment, there is a flicker of  _ something  _ within the vengeful spirit.

That  _ something _ makes it take the boy in.

The boy is given water that rejuvenates him, edible herbs that strengthens him, and shelter in the abandoned castle. The boy’s will to live is impressive. Despite his small frame, he fights to survive and voraciously eats whatever he is given. The boy’s condition improves within a few days.

The boy, dressed in nothing but the oversized haori and linen scarf, may be no older than ten. Malnourishment may have stunted his growth, but the child shows no expression either. He appears fearless in the face of a Headless apparition, but the boy ultimately does not like to be alone. When he finally regains the strength to stand and walk, the child would follow the Headless wherever he goes. 

At first, he does not come close to the spirit, though more out of shyness than fear. But it’s not long before he starts to hold onto the hem of the spirit’s clothing as he trails along. Surprisingly, the spirit pays no mind to it.

The Headless lord continues its normal routine. It would walk through the dilapidated castle, the broken down walls and the ruined fortress gate. It would continue on to the outskirts, sometimes so far to Mount Kongo. There are no signs of humans except for some monks, and those who catch sight of the spirit would immediately run the other way. The Memorial Mob back then had been terribly unfortunate, and the boy, who was picked up and momentarily cared for by the merchant, feels a twinge of guilt.

But he had seen many deaths in his short, young life. He too would have died had the Headless not shown him mercy.

The leaves of the Mount Kongo trees are painted in the colour of sunset. They are beautiful and breathtaking in comparison to the dead ashen grounds of Ashina. Even so, the boy stays close to the spirit, not wanting to stray away from his Headless benefactor.

There are monkeys in the trees, picking at fruits and mocking passing travelers from above. They do not mock the Headless when it appears. The little boy sees persimmons in the trees and is tempted. He climbs one of them and tries to pick as many as he can. In his haste, he loses his footing and feels himself fall from the branch.

He nearly lets out a scream as he anticipates the pain to come when he hits the ground, but instead finds himself suspended. The Headless lord had caught him by the back of his collar, keeping him from hitting the floor. The boy apologetically bows his head but the spirit merely drops him and moves on. The boy follows with his armful of persimmons.

They repeat their routine daily.

The Headless spirit tends to patrol the lands when the sun goes down. Sometimes the boy goes with him. Most of the time, the boy stays at the castle. The wraith hunts food for him and returns in the night while the boy has to learn to cook and fend for himself. Sometimes the spirit brings monkeys, giant black roosters, and sometimes even dogs. There are also fish in the castle moat they could catch. The boy is grateful to have a figure to take care of him, regardless if the other is alive or not.

The boy doesn’t speak, and the Headless obviously has no ability to do so either. But neither of them need words. The boy is naturally quiet and so are his actions. He makes his own sleeping space by the spot where the spirit would sit and rest when dawn comes. They don’t touch but they stay close. To the boy, the strange dark mist that surrounds the Headless is comforting. It feels heavy and slows his movements, but it feels like a weighted blanket that wraps around him. He finds it hard to sleep without that same fog enveloping him.

One evening, while the Headless lord is out for his daily patrols, the boy remains at the castle. He usually keeps to the buildings, but he is feeling adventurous. He decides to have a look at the outskirts. He climbs walls, crosses bridges, ascends stairs and pushes past massive wooden gates. 

He walks past some dried bodies, skeletons of fallen soldiers still clad in their armour. He explores the many abandoned structures that would have once held soldiers, servants and horses. The boy wonders if the Headless spirit was one of these people. He doesn’t know who his benefactor was, aside that he was a tall man and clearly proficient with a sword.

The boy’s eyes are attracted to a bright reflection of light. He spots an old sword propped up by one of the bodies. It doesn’t look as bad as it should have after being exposed to the elements for so long. The boy wants to bring it back to the Headless. When he tries to pick it up, he doesn’t expect how heavy it is, nearly dropping the weapon onto his feet.

The boy makes a surprised yelp but fortunately he doesn’t injure himself. He does, however, hear a sudden crunch of dried grass.

When the boy turns he is faced with a pack of three wolves. Instinctively, the boy picks up the rusty sword to wield it. He swings it haphazardly, unused by the weight, but he’s pumped by the instinct to fight. The lupines growl and bare their teeth at him. They look emaciated and are clearly hungry. Seeing this, the boy knows he’d have to fight for his life.

The wolves pounce.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at the castle, the Headless returns to an empty abode. It does not sense the little presence that it has grown used to. It drops the game that it caught and goes to search each end of the castle but does not find the boy. The castle no longer feels the same without the other. The spirit goes to look at the gates, the fortress and then the outskirts.

It’s there when the spirit finally finds the child.

He is walking slowly and dragging something behind him. The spirit waits until the boy sees him and picks up his pace. Though the Headless says nothing, the youth looks up at it with a strange expression. He is covered in scratches and scrapes, and there is a fresh scar that crosses over his left eyebrow to his cheek. 

The boy holds out the things he’d been dragging: one dead wolf and an old sword.

The Headless reaches its hand out. The hand does not reach for the things the boy is offering up. Instead, it settles on the boy’s head and ruffles the mess of hair. The boy stands frozen, confused and in a daze. After a while, the spirit turns around and returns to the direction of the castle. The boy looks on, stunned, but once he snaps out of his daze, he feels his cheeks flush with warmth. Pride swells in his chest. Bowing his head slightly to hide his smile, the boy soon runs after the spirit with his trophies in tow.

They return home where the spirit makes a fire at the back of the castle so that the boy can cook the rooster and wolf. Meanwhile, the Headless inspects the sword the child had picked up. It is old but not rusty. It is still in decent condition, even with some chipping at some parts.

Once the boy is done eating, they both head back indoors to their resting space. There, the boy sleeps, curled up beside the spirit, hugging the sword he’d picked up. His head lightly touches the spirit’s thigh as he slumbers.

The Headless lord sits, contemplating. The boy has brought out… things it thought to be lost. After resurrecting as a vengeful spirit, the Headless only had its will set on revenge and destruction. Hate towards the ministry and any trespassers to Ashina. Yet, ever since it came across the boy, it hadn’t been the same.

Vengeance no longer drives him, even if it still fuels its corrupted soul. It decides on something.

Later, the boy is woken from his sleep in the middle of the night. He rubs his eyes and blinks up at the Headless. With no head or face, it is hard to gauge the spirit’s expression, but the boy can read its mood a little. He stands up and dusts himself off and waits obediently to see what the spirit is about to do. The Headless is holding the sword that the boy had acquired. He wonders if the spirit would be using it.

However, he doesn’t expect the spirit to pick him up.

The boy stiffens as he’s held against the Headless’ chest. He realises then that the spirit is walking, slow and steady in that languid, ghostly pace. The boy watches the scenery from his position as they travel further than they’ve had before. The view at the spirit’s chest height makes the world seem different. The boy finds it exciting, but he behaves, remaining quiet.

They go into the cave by the castle. It appears to be a dungeon, and they go further deeper into it until they reach a chasm. Still they proceed forward.

They eventually reach a pit where the boy has to hold his breath in. The pit is full of dark liquid that smells putrid, and inhaling the air there makes the child giddy and his eyes watery, making him want to cough incessantly. Surprisingly, there are people in the pit. They are dressed strangely, in bandages and rags, carrying strange, cylindrical metal weapons. When they see the Headless, they yell at each other and scurry off. Their fear reminds the boy of the Mob merchant who died by the Headless’ sword. The boy is aware that the spirit is dangerous, but he isn’t afraid of it at all.

He keeps silent as the Headless pays no heed to the people and moves past. The next area is an open forest. They keep walking where they meet another Headless. However, this one makes the boy shrinks and presses himself to his guardian’s chest. The other Headless is not as friendly as the one holding him. This one is large and bloated, nearly naked and surrounded by a similar miasma. But where his saviour’s miasma is heavy but comforting, the other’s feel suffocating. The boy does not like it.

When the other Headless approaches them, the boy braces himself. It is then when his benefactor makes a gurgling sound from its exposed throat. The bloated Headless stops in its tracks. The gurgling sound intensifies, followed by air wheezing through the exposed throat which sounds like a hiss. There seems to be a conversation, but the boy doesn’t understand what is happening. He hides his face and waits for it to be over.

Eventually, the boy hears the other Headless trudge away. The air doesn’t feel as oppressive anymore. He looks up to see that they’ve gone on. The forest ahead is covered in thick fog and the boy cannot see anything. The fog seems to be making him sleepy. While the journey descending down to the depths had been exciting, it has been long as well. With the fog’s strange lulling effects, the boy finds himself nodding off and falls asleep leaning into the cool presence carrying him.

The boy doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for, but when he wakes, he realises he’s laid on the ground. He sits up and looks all around, searching for his saviour. 

“Uh…!” the boy doesn’t even know what to call for. There is no name, and he has no words. All he thinks of is the fear that he is being abandoned. The boy is scared. He hadn’t been scared like this for a while. He’d lost his parents, nearly died from sickness and starvation, faced bandits, wolves, and even a vengeful spirit. But now? To be alone… He’s terrified.

“Ah…” The boy feels tears coming. He hasn’t cried in a long time. Wherever he is, it is dark, humid and barren. Even the trees and grass look dark and gloomy. There are gravestones around as well.

Had he been so bad that even his benefactor decided to leave him so far away from the castle? The boy understood he had been a burden, but he would rather the spirit kill him than abandon him like this.

The child sobs, shivering alone.

“Why are you crying?” An unfamiliar woman’s voice comes from somewhere. It startles the boy enough for him to stop crying. When he turns, he sees his Headless saviour standing with a woman. Looking at her properly, she is dressed in a light pink kimono, a purple scarf and has a basket-like reed hood over her head that obscures her face. In her hands is a shamisen, and by her waist, a bamboo flute.

The boy stands quickly and is about to run to the spirit but stops himself. Has he really come back for him?

“Poor boy… The lord left you here to look for me. He did not… abandon you,” the woman explains. Her voice is sad but lovely. The boy doesn’t say anything but looks to the Headless spirit. It does not react to what the woman had said but the boy can tell that the Headless seems to agree.

The child cautiously approaches the Headless spirit and after some hesitation, hugs the spirit’s legs. The boy tries not to make a noise from his sniffling, but he is still scared and upset. After some time, the boy catches his breath and turns towards the strange woman.

“What a precious child you have here, my lord…” the woman says. She crouches down and reaches forward to touch the boy. He avoids her touch at first, but then her fingertips brush his cheek. She is unusually cold. It is then that the boy realises she is not a living person. “What is your name, little boy?”

The boy doesn’t know what to respond with. He doesn’t have a name, nor does any word come to mind. He hasn’t spoken to anyone in a long time. After a moment, he thinks of the first creature he’d fought against by himself. The kill that he proudly showed to his Headless benefactor.

“Wo...lf,” the boy replies. He’s forgotten the word, and it took him some time to remember it. 

“Wolf,” the woman repeats. She still has a sad, lilting voice, but the boy, Wolf, can sense a smile despite the hat covering her face. 

Wolf turns to look at the Headless. Though there seems no outward response to the name Wolf had chosen for himself, the boy thinks he can feel its approving aura.

The woman with the shamisen continues. “This lord… has asked me to teach you swordsmanship.”

The little Wolf’s eyes widened. He had not expected such a request. He looks to the Headless but the other cannot respond. The woman offers no further explanation either.

“I have been waiting for  _ my  _ lord for so long…” the woman sighs. She stares off in the distance, looking forlorn. Eventually she turns back to the boy and gently strokes the hair on his head. “Perhaps teaching you while I wait will be more beneficial…”

Wolf doesn’t respond to anything. He only looks to his Headless guardian. 

The spirit finally reacts. Its large hand settles on Wolf’s head as it gives him an encouraging pet. The boy blushes slightly and nods. He had seen the way the Headless wields his sword. Wolf had thought he looked regal, like a warrior god, not a vengeful spirit. If his guardian decided he should be taught swordsmanship, then Wolf would readily agree.

With that thought, Wolf decides he wants to be stronger.


	3. Chapter 3

The Ashina Depths become Wolf’s temporary residence. 

While the Headless leaves the boy to learn under the woman's tutelage, the wraith returns to the surface to do its usual patrol of Ashina.

Wolf learns that the lady's name is O’Rin and that she has been waiting for her lover and her child for many, many years. Her story explains her sorrowful songs that she sometimes plays by plucking at the strings of her shamisen, or the mournful, haunting whistles she produces with her flute. Although they can sound quite eerie, Wolf finds them quite calming to listen to. Seeing the boy's interest in her music, O'Rin doesn’t only impart in him the way of her sword but also in playing her instruments. She lets the boy try his hand in music, learning one note at a time. Although Wolf has no idea if his Headless benefactor even appreciates melodies in its ghostly state, he is still determined to learn so he too can play music for it.

Aside from Wolf's musical and lethal lessons, Lady O'Rin also accompanies him to roam outside the graveyard area where they spend most of their time.

Mibu Village is desolate, inhabited by strange, distorted people. They are small-statured and tend to travel in groups as they wield lanterns, sticks and hoes as weapons. They also prefer to stay clear of the path of spirits like O’Rin, but they look at Wolf with an unwelcoming stare. Yet they go on with their lives, farming, fishing and patrolling their village. They seem like normal people, but Wolf isn’t fully certain.

Meanwhile, Wolf still worries whenever the Headless leaves. He still fears that it may never come back, and has completely left him to the female spirit. While his new mentor is nice, Wolf knows he cannot replace the family she’s been waiting for, and Wolf himself is too attached to his Headless benefactor. While he waits for the Headless’ return, he causes no trouble and trains in Lady O’Rin’s techniques to get stronger. 

The training is not hard, but her teaching is difficult to follow. The woman is not a teacher but a musician, and as a spirit, her mind is not sound at times either, sometimes distracted by her lingering sorrow and resentment that kept her as a phantom. Wolf makes do by copying her movements as much as he can. Her footwork and actions are languid and flow like water. A normal living human would find it hard to do such maneuvers. But Wolf wants to show that he is worth teaching to, and that he is useful. He doesn’t want to raise his chances of possibly being left behind for his lack of use. 

Much to the boy’s relief, the Headless would come back to see him daily, and would still bring hunted game for him to eat. Usually, it stays to observe Wolf’s training and see the fruits of his efforts. It would sit by O’Rin who would play a song, and both spirits would watch him perform. It feels serene, almost homely. Almost like family. But even if their current routine is comfortable, Wolf still wants to grow up quickly. He doesn’t know how long he has to stay here and learn under Lady O’Rin, but he also wants to return to the castle where they’ve made their home. He knows how important it is to the Headless. Although touched, he hates that he burdens his saviour by having it travel between both locations so often.

While that goal of returning to the castle seems far away, Wolf learns to speak better while being taught under O’Rin. She tends to reminisce about her long-lost lover, or recite songs and poems. Wolf’s vocabulary may sound a little more poetic and floral, perhaps even effeminate, but it matters not to him. It is all he knows.

It does, however, frustrate him that he is not able to communicate with his Headless guardian. O’Rin speaks to his benefactor normally and she seems to understand him as well even though the latter makes neither sound nor gestures. He wonders if it is some sort of connection among spirits, and wonders what kind of conversations they have. Admittedly, he feels a little envious of his mentor.

But one thing he clearly notices is that the lady speaks respectfully to the Headless. She also refers to him as a lord.

Wolf decides to ask his teacher about it, albeit in his halting, unsure manner of speech.

“The Headless… A lord. Do you know him...?” He has always wanted to know the identity of his benefactor, and since the other spirit is away, it is the best time to ask. 

“Oh... that gentleman?” O’Rin hums thoughtfully. “I do not know who he is exactly… but I believe he is a fallen lord. I don’t know the matters of the surface - but at least, I do know he is not as old as us here in the Depths.”

Wolf frowns. He had hoped for a name at least.

“He may be of the Ashina… My lord had served the ruling clan…” O’Rin murmurs. “There is something about his soul that feels like part of the land. Perhaps he is one of them.” 

_ Ashina  _ . That must be it, Wolf thinks a little excitedly. He was sick back then so he did not pay attention to the talk of the people around him. He knows nothing of the land he resides in.

Wolf doesn’t ask any more questions and they return to his lessons. Learning his guardian’s possible clan name keeps him in a better mood as the days go on.

And those days come and go, especially deep within the Depths.

Not surprisingly, Wolf loses track of time. He cannot tell if it is night or day when the skies look the same. But even as time passes, Wolf will always look forward to his Headless’ return from patrolling the lands at the surface.

In the meantime, Wolf practices the name whenever he is by himself.  _ Ashina  _ . Sometimes, he ponders on what his Headless spirit’s first name could be, ever curious, but he has no knowledge of this land’s history, or even of the war that caused Ashina to be how it is now. He is just an orphan boy. He keeps those thoughts to himself, entertaining them until the spirit’s return.

However, a specific thought remains in Wolf’s mind: if the Headless was a lord, how magnificent and noble would he have been? The spirit’s current clothing gives away no clues. The spirit bears an exposed, muscular torso, but its arms are covered in black burn-like scars. The robes of its lower garments are tattered and singed, held together by light armour, yet it is barefoot. While Wolf has never seen or understood luxury, the cloth looks grand with its patterns and stitching. So, the spirit was definitely a lord, wasn’t it?

Wolf also wonders how the Headless would react to being called by its name. He had been happy when he picked a name for himself, and the phantom had approved of his choice. He’d wished for the chance to hear the spirit’s voice as well, especially uttering his name with pride. Would he sound gentle like Lady O’Rin? Or would he have a low, bellowing voice, powerful, thunderous and commanding as a lord should be? The boy’s imaginations make his cheeks flush. Wolf hides his face in his scarf as he hangs on to the thought of the lord calling his name. 

If Wolf feels this happy thinking of his guardian saying his name… Surely, the Headless spirit would be happy if Wolf called its name too?

After mustering some courage and thinking about it, Wolf tries to call out to his benefactor one day. He hopes he did not get the wrong name, but thought that it would not hurt to try. He inhales and nervously gathers his voice before he speaks, looking eagerly at the back of his spirit guardian while they are out on their usual trek around the Depths.

“Lord A...Ashina…?”

The Headless spirit, who was walking ahead of the boy suddenly stops in its tracks. It stays frozen for such a long time that Wolf fears he’s misspoken. Wolf freezes as well, panic setting in. Did he say the wrong name? But why is its reaction so extreme? The boy flusters and panics. Although he knows the Headless will not harm him, Wolf still does not want to see it unhappy in any form.

“I’m sorry,” the boy quickly apologises, seeing that it’s the only thing he can do now. The Headless spirit makes a noise. As there are no longer vocal cords in its exposed neck, there can only be a gurgling and strange rasping, airy sound. Wolf has heard it before, but this time it has a sad, almost nostalgic tenor. It makes Wolf choke on a sob.

The Headless spirit turns around, only to walk past Wolf and return to the graveyard. The boy follows behind nervously and watches as it sits down against one of the larger rocks. Wolf sits by it, holding back his tears from his mistake. “I’m sorry,” Wolf says again in desperation, but there remains no response. What is the spirit feeling? Did Wolf bring up bad memories? 

Even if the other does not show any anger, Wolf sits beside the spirit in silence, stewing in his guilt. 

The following day, the Headless' behaviour returns to normal. It shows no change in its attitude towards Wolf as if it insists on forgetting what has happened the day before, and Wolf doesn't bring it up. He doesn’t want to be reminded of his mistake either.

After that, the boy doesn’t mention the name Ashina again. 


End file.
